The Civillain Army
by allgamesallday
Summary: Ayoung soldier joins the army in WW2 and suddenly his life becomes fraught with danger as his stories will tell of the horror and the danger he and others faced.
1. New Recruit

_Dedicated to the memory of Kenneth John King. Born March 17th 1922, he died peacefully on March 16th 2010, before his 88th birthday. __Father, grandfather and friend to all. __ His story here is just one of many who fought and died._

It was a bright, sunny day on August 21st 1941 when he went down to the recruitment office. He was unsure as to why he was doing it, but he felt sure that he must do it. After all, his cousin Lawrence had joined the paratroopers and he seemed okay, but then he was eager and willing. Ken wasn't so eager. He had joined the Home Guard but that didn't last too long and now he was going to join the proper army.

But could he really do? He wasn't a soldier. He was a quiet, gentle, patient man who didn't like bad things happening in the world. He was just a simple tailor who was to join the army.

* * *

"Come in, lad. Sit down." The officer smiled genially and gestured to a seat. Ken sat down and waited for the man to speak. The officer was a well-built figure with board shoulders and a moustache but his face seemed kind and gentle. He wore a standard military uniform and looked very official. Ken was almost too shy to speak.

After a while the officer asked him questions. Questions which Ken answered quietly and calmly. Yes, he was Kenneth John King. He had been a tailor and followed the Church of England faith. He was interested in joining the regular army, no reason other than wanting to join.

"Any family in the army?"

Ken thought for a moment. "Only my father. Ernest Thomas King, he was in the Great War." He almost added how it affected him and how he never spoke of the trenches or how he was captured by the Germans. 'Couldn;t run fast enough' was all he said.

The officer simply nodded and made a note. Then he placed his pen down and stood up. Ken quickly followed him and saw the officer was only a little taller than himself. The officer indicated to the desk. Ken took up the pen and signed his name on the line while the officer reached in his pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper. Handing it to Ken, Ken saw that it was the King's Shilling.

He was in the army!

He smiled and the officer smiled back as he held out his hand.

"Welcome to the army, son."

* * *

Everything went like clockwork from there. Ken received orders to join the 7th Armoured and to sail off to North Africa. It was a long way around the Atlantic, but then the Nazis had all of Europe underneath them. Ken wasn't much of a seaman, but he managed somehow. The training was already a blur, but he figured that he would be driving a tank of some sort. It was exciting, like travelling to another country. He had only heard stories of other countries.

And yet, something told him that this wasn't going to be easy. He was nervous about leaving home, especially leaving his sweetheart Jenny back home. He had learnt early on to just accept life as it came and that had been enough.

**Hey there. Just a small tribute that may continue on if I can do it. I want to tell his story, now he's gone. This is inspired by the Call of Duty series (which, by the way, is owned by Infinity Ward) More to follow.**


	2. Small things

_Early spring 1942_:

It was a long while before Ken found himself in North Africa, in a camp surrounded by barbed wire. He and his men were resting not far from a small Arab village somewhere in what seemed to be an endless beach with no sea. The sun shone down and the oppressive heat made the men tired and hot, sweating quietly in the shade of the tents put up there. One such tent was the Chapel which was 'holy ground' and where men took off their hats and were not allowed to swear. But then, Ken never swore.

Ken looked out over the expanse of wasteland and began to think to himself. He had joined up in the reigement and had already felt slightly at home. Apparently he was the fourth tank driver in the unit (which worried him a little) but he had already made some friends including Andy, a tall, quiet Scotsmen who was the lookout for the tank unit. There was little fighting for them, Andy had said, until there got deeper into Africa.  
The main trouble was the waiting. So far, the most exciting thing to happen was the movement of the unit. Whatever was going on elsewhere was of little importance to these men since it wasn't happening to them. The day was hot and the night was cold, making this the worst place to fight a war, but they were still here.  
Only the faint sound of shells from time to time made Ken sure that there was a war on. News was that the Americans had joined on the Allies side and everything was alright now the Yanks had joined ('three bloody year late', some men pointed out).

Ken's attention was suddenly distracted by a cry of pain. He looked round and then saw a young Arab girl was caught in the barbed wire and was in trouble. Without a word, Ken went over, went down on his knees and carefully began to free the girl's hand from the barbed wire. He then got out a handkerchief and carefully wrapped it round the girl's hand.  
All the time, the girl was silent and simply stared at this strange, but kind man. Finally he tied the knot securely and stood up. The girl on the other side drew her hand back carefully to examine Ken's handiwork. She then looked up at Ken, showing her brown, innocent eyes. Then she turned and ran back towards the village.

* * *

"A very interesting tale, Johnny" was Andy's response after Ken told him, "Nothing might come of it of course, but you never know."

Ken simply nodded, not saying much. He didn't really mind being called 'John' or 'Johnny' since there was another Ken in the unit. In fact, he was used to it now. He was about to say something when he noticed men walking to the Chapel. He too stood up and walked with them. It was evening prayers, no doubt. He walked behind a group of men, noticing that one of them was still wearing his cap, even after he entered the tent. A military policemen, a bull-necked, frightening man soon noticed and roared, "Oi, take your cap off, you ignorant bugger."

Ken never really forgot the soldier's embarrassment, the chaplain's shocked expression and the sniggers of the men nearby. He also never forgot how he came out the tent next morning with the others. Passing the barbed wire, he noticed something and, getting closer, saw a young girl placing a box just outside the wire. She raised her head and Ken saw it was the girl he had saved from yesterday. She saw him, smiled, then ran back to the village.

The box, when he got it through the wire, turned out to be a box of eggs which was duly shared out among his friends. Every day, for a week, there was always a box of eggs for Ken waiting outside the wire before the company began to move.  
Andy was right; you never really know.  
He didn't know, how could him, that the real fighting would come later in Italy. He didn't know how much his life would change.

**Bit hard today, Granddad's birthday. Still, it must be told. More action will come up and things may get a bit tense with some VERY lucky encounters. Everything here and what comes next is as true as possible.**


	3. Contact

_October 1943: After the capture of Tunisia and the invasion of Sicily and then Italy, British and American forces move northwards to defeat the Germans in Italy, but they move carefully for the local terrain favours the defenders._

Ken had almost forgot his time in North Africa. The Germans had proved to be tough opponents in Africa and rumours had it that they would be tougher here in Italy. Despite German commander Rommel causing havoc, the Allies had won at a heavy cost apparently. Now people were concerned about Hitler's forces in Europe and how close the end of the war was.  
Ken wasn't concerned about that. Ever since he'd landed in Italy he had one job and on job only, driving the tank. Right now, he and the rest of his crew had to worry about keeping with the rest of the convoy. Ken's tank was third from the front, which was only slightly less dangerous than being the lead tank. Somehow, nothing spectacular had really happened to the lads of the tank crew.  
Ken then noticed something happening up front. As he drew nearer, he saw an old man lying on the ground, a crumpled deckchair beside him. He was looking down at his legs in disbelief. They were broken somehow.

Then an old woman came out, saw the man, then went up to the tank and started crying and begging and shouting something in Italian. It didn't take much to know what she wanted. Ken could even see her distraught face as she begged these foreigners to help. Ken wanted desperately to stop the tank, get out and help. But he knew what would happen next; the convoy would have to stop for any one tank. Those responsible were in deep trouble and result in a court martial at the very least.  
So Ken had no choice but to drive on, trying to ignore the woman's cries. He could hear her voice as she moved to the next tank, still pleading with the men inside. He quickly glanced round at his friends and, judging by their looks, they were thinking the same thing. In different circumstances, they would have stopped and helped, but this was war. Ken kept his eyes on the road. He was trying not to think about what he did or didn't do and began to wonder why he joined up again.

* * *

Half an hour later, the tanks were still moving. There had been a very short break for lunch, then back on the road again. The sun was moving slowly into a lazy afternoon position and the autumn air was hot and humid. Ken wiped sweat from his forehead as his friends stood by, ready for the first sign of action. But there seemed nothing to see...  
Then he noticed something out the corner of his eye. It glinted briefly on the side of the road. He turned back to the tanks in front, in time to hear the boom of a large gun and then see the lead tank explode into a blossom of flame.

Panic took over instantly. Ken froze for a moment, unable to move from the sheer terror. Everything slowed down to a crawl. Then training took over coupled with fear. Ken quickly moved to move the tank backwards. It jerked into action and threw everyone out of their seats. The tank in front was doing the same, but then it stopped after a few yards. Ken was busy watching it before the engine strained, then stopped.  
He had stalled. Of all the times to do it...

The gun boomed again. Ken waited for the shot and sure enough, it struck the tank in front. The explosion seemed to hollow it out with flames and looked like a nightmarish fireworks display. Ken paused for a moment before he quickly moved the tank back again. He could see other tanks behind him moving off the road and followed them closely, all the time waiting for the shell to hit the tank. The first two tanks ahead proved one thing; one shot, one kill.

Everything fell silent after Ken turned off the engine except for his heavy breathing and those around him. They climbed out the tank and waited to see what would happen next. Then three spitfires roared ahead, circled the area and then flew back. Air support had arrived, but the anti-tank gun had disappeared so it seemed. The orders then came; Ken's tank would lead the convoy to the rest stop. They duly obeyed and moved forward to take the lead, glancing briefly at the two burnt out wrecks. The fear and tension was palpable.

* * *

Night fell on the camp and fires were lit where the newly arrived soldiers of the 7th Armoured told other soldiers the story of their journey to the camp. They explained how two of their tanks had been taken down. The first one was planned, but the second was pure luck. But, despite the losses, the mood was one of excitement of real war, of taking on Jerry at last.  
Only one tank crew stayed out the general banter, a fire set aside in one corner of the camp. Ken and the other sat, looking at the fire and occasionally taking a swig from their canteens. They had to watch the coffins be taken to a graveyard set aside for the Division. They didn't look at each other and hardly spoke at all, trying to adsorb what had happened that day. It was as if someone had sucked all the happiness from their lives and reality had taken over.  
It had been like this the whole journey to the camp. The tense silence.  
They were now thoroughly convinced that they would not survived the war in Italy.

**Still going. Please review and tell me what u think. I tried to imagine what it was like in those real-life situations and how he may have reacted. Update soon.**


	4. Waitng Game

_December 1943: Gaining momentum, the Allies push forward to try and re-capture Rome before moving on to Northern Italy. However, the Germans have now prepared the Gustav Line just to the south, a series of well defended strong-points with the town of Monte Cassino in the centre. Plans to attack this town are under way. Mean while the soldiers wait...  
_

Ken was looking out over the Italian countryside. A cold biting wind blew down from the mountains and the Mediterranean winter was threatening to settle with a vengeance. The dark clouds coming over the horizon warned of rain and snow and seemed to hang over the men like some ominous sign of the future. Ken wrapped his heavy coat round his shoulders as he hurried to the mess hall. Before he got there though, some men ran past him, chattering excitedly. Ken looked after them and began to follow them.  
When he reached the others, he saw they were looking at a line of German prisoners, watched over by a puffed up sergeant-major (or whatever rank he was). He said something that Ken just missed, but it concerned 'pockets'. Then he saw the men move to the prisoners and go through their pockets. Ken went to move away, disgusted inside and turned round just as a gloved hand landed on his shoulder. It was the officer.

"Come on, lad. You get to have your go too. Hurry up!"

Ken didn't like the idea of going through people's pockets,but there was no way out of it. He had been given an order of sorts and anyway everyone almost 'had' to do it. Ken went back towards to the prisoners and came across one in particular. He was a young lad, barely as old as Ken, and looked at Ken with a mixture of fear and sadness from under his grey helmet. Ken looked round, then reluctantly put his hands in the German's pockets. He withdrew a battered wallet with a picture inside of a woman. Ken took the picture out and looked at it for a moment, then showed to the prisoner the photo. He nodded,

"Mutter" Mother.

Ken looked at the prisoner, then placed the photo back in the man's pocket before leaving with the wallet. He started to walk away before he noticed another soldier move to the German prisoner. His hands dived expertly in the pocket and removed something. The photo Ken had taken out. The soldier then took out a lighter from his own pocket, lit it and slowly burnt the photo in front of the prisoner. The prisoner didn't move a muscle through all this, but Ken was close enough to see that the prisoner was close to tears.  
He had little desire to look at his new-found 'prize' and felt somehow guilty of what he had seen. He began to wonder; who's the real danger, the Nazis or the Allies? It was hard to tell.

* * *

The winter grew colder with each passing day and the soldiers became more restless. Despite the promise of moving out, time seemed to drag on to a crawl. The rumours that the Division was to see action next month sent a wave of anticipation and their spirits refused to be dampened,even when the blizzards came whistling down and blew over the men_. _Ken wasn't too concerned except on patrol when he and his crew climbed into the tank and attempted to move off in calmer weather_. _Sometimes it was almost pitch dark and the threat of ambush constantly came to the men's minds. Ken was still driving when he thought he felt the tank nudge at something. He looked round, but couldn't see anything in the darkness and so kept going.  
The next morning, the captain roused Ken's tank crew and marched them all to a brick wall they had apparently passed on their patrol. For 'damaging a civilian structure', they were to be punished and were to report to camp in their own time. When he had gone, the other men inched forward to see their 'extensive damage'. The only sign of ruin was a single brick missing which may have come out long before their tank had moved to it. But rules were rules, the captain had to be obeyed and nothing could be done.

As they had walked back to camp, Ken noticed a three man patrol move past them. They were smiling and joking with one another as they approached a nearby village, bombed out and abandoned. As Ken followed their progress, the man in the middle suddenly stiffened and fell down, leaving the other two men looking around bewildered. They raised their rifles and waited for another shot, but none came. Finally they downed their weapons and made to carry their comrade back to camp, to be buried in the Division's graveyard.

Ken's main thought as he got back was 'that could have been me. It should have been me. One day, it _will _be me.' He feared the same would happen to him, especially when he went on a similar patrol a few days later. Fortunately nothing came of it, but there was still this sense of dread, of waiting. Ken and his mates had all agreed that they would not survive the war in Italy, considering the defences the Germans had set up.  
Meanwhile people had their spirits raised with news that the Allies were moving quickly through Italy, that Rome would be liberated soon and that the soldiers were having a 'jolly good lark about'. The British people smiled and held their heads high, blissfully ignorant of what was truly happening.

Ken would later relate that 'we moved only when the Germans permitted us to to'. It was never more true than what was to come.

**Just got some reviews. Sounds positive and glad to see it's interesting to some. Please review on this, I tried to make this story as truthful and as real as possible and it is in Granddad's memory.  
Thanks.**


	5. Gone to the Cassino

_January 1944: __The Gustav Line is preparing for a massive allied assault, mainly for the town of Monte Cassino. The battle isn't expected to last long, but many of the main generals suspect that it will be a hard battle and are ignorant of the final result. The British are joined by the Americans and the Polish to break the German lines. Meanwhile, Ken is transferred to the Eighth Army to serve again as a tank driver._

The pounding of the artillery seemed to rumble like an angry giant and Ken, like many others couldn't help watching the shells land on the town below. Before the war, it may have been a wonderful place to visit, somewhere out the way to relax. Now it was becoming a bombed out ruin with the monastery standing tall and almost waiting for the next bombing run (Jerry might be in there, someone said).

Ken took one last look at the scene stretching out before him, then dived back into the tank to take his position. As he did so, he could still hear the artillery rumbling in the distance. He made himself as comfortable as possible, then waited for his friends to take their positions before waiting for the word to move.

While he waited, he caught sight of the hill in the distance. It looked like some stumped mountain and was where some of the German defence were focused. Ken could just see small specks crawling up the hill, the British soldiers climbing inch by deadly inch before some fell. No one had told them of the machine guns there. It was like a re-run of the Great War, helpless British soldiers crawling out to die.  
Ken would have watched this sight longer had not the radio given the order to move. The tanks in front moved out and Ken followed them. He was trying to be careful today as he had been every day of the war. He followed the lead tank closely but not too closely. Suddenly an huge cloud of dust flew up as a shell landed close to Ken's tank. They were in range of the German guns.

* * *

Ken remembered little of the ensuing battle, seeing it only in flashes, but what he did remember stayed with him for the rest of his life. He could recall the sight of the British soldiers climbing the hill and falling from the machine guns, just as the Americans, the New Zealanders and finally the Polish would as well. He remembered how he steered the tank carefully while the rest of the crew readied the flame-thrower, fitted specially for the attack on the tank.

Ken was still driving on when out of nowhere, a huge Panzer tank came into view. Ken shouted out a warning and the crew rushed to fire the gun as the gun turret on the Panzer turned to meet the new threat. Ken's tank fired, hitting the Panzer on the front, but the tank came towards them like some invincible monster. Ken steered the tank quickly out the way, just in time to see the Panzer's shot miss by inches. Ken tried to back up the tank, but instead succeeded in presenting the tank's side to the Panzer which fired again.

Many who heard the tale later on would comment on the 'lucky shot'. The shell from the Panzer hit the fuel bag on the back of the tank which fuelled the flame-thrower, catching it alight. The fire quickly spread down the connected pipe into the tank before splitting near the front with some of the flaming fuel hitting Ken's arm.  
Ken almost panicked for an instant. The searing heat brought with it a numbness to the arm. Ken then quickly made for the tank hatch. He didn't see his men scatter before him, only the light which greeted him from the open tank hatch. He stumbled and fell with a hard thump on the ground, but there was no time. He rolled around, dug up soil and threw it on the flames until they went out. The smoke that came up was followed quickly by a great pain which made Ken feel faint. He sensed others gathering round him and his last thought before darkness took him was of being lifted up.

_Am I dead?_ he thought, _Have I died...before seeing my family again?_

**Rally sorry for the long delay, too much work. Another chapter up though and near the end. P.S: The Great War is what we called WWI, in case u didn't know.  
**


	6. Blighty One

**Sorry for the last chapter. Bit of artistic liscene here, but mostly close to the truth. Enjoy!**

The first sensation Ken had before waking up was the distant sound of voices as if he was listening from the bottom of a well and the faint burst of pain from his arm. As he slowly opened his eyes, he could see he was in a tent surrounded by several other beds and realised that he was in hospital. Ordinary memory took longer to come back and it was a while before Ken remembered the events of the battle. He just lay there, letting the events replay themselves silently in his mind.

"Feeling better, son?" Ken looked up and saw one of the officers looking down at him. The officer gave a weak smile. "Bit of a Blighty one, eh?"

Ken nodded shyly. "Yes, sir."

The officer sat down and took a few breaths before starting. "You'll be here for a while. Doctors are hopeful for full recovery." He paused. "Listen, we need a man to replace one of our chaps in stores. I don't suppose you're interested?"

Ken thought about it for a few seconds, then nodded. The officer smiled back and left him there.  
Ken could remember doing the stores course in England during training. He had mis-heard the man giving the lecture and heard him say 'Darlington'. He was overjoyed, he could stay nearer to...Jenny. But it wasn't until the form arrived that he found out it was Doncaster. Too late to back out now so he did the course, found it interesting, continued doing it...

Ken sighed. That was a long time ago. Jenny was even longer back. He could even remember his first meeting with her.

_1938, North-East England, Bowes Museum near Barnard Castle._

_It was a bright, sunny day. Ken was leaning on the stone rail. Behind him was the huge mansion which housed a vast museum. In front of him, down below was the enormous front garden divided into four sections of flowers with a fountain in the middle. Ken was taking in the sun, enjoying what was to be a nice day. He smiled and looked down into the garden.  
It was then he saw her. A bright, fair-faced girl with long, dark hair and a light cotton dress on. She moved towards the fountain, almost graceful and looked at it, her back to Ken.  
Before Ken realised it, he was right behind her with his heart beating away like mad. Hearing his approach, she turned slightly and smiled a warm, friendly smile. Her voice was soft and a little shy, "Hello."  
Ken smiled back and felt bold. "Hello there. I...saw you from the ledge." He gestured behind him and continued, holding out his hand "I'm Kenneth."  
Her smile widened and she shook it gently, as though he was made of glass, "I'm Jenny. Jenny Butler."_

Even though he was miles from home and still hurting from the burn on his arm, Ken could think of Jenny and still felt that warm glow of happiness in his chest. He had promised to come back and marry her. Maybe on her birthday to make the memory last...  
Ken stopped and looked out the tent flap. If he got back.

* * *

When he got out, he was told he could stay back and watch the battle. The first attempt (which Ken was involved in) had failed, but the next attempt would push 'Jerry' out of the country and win the war before next week. That was what the general feeling was and Ken was obliged to watch since he was now in stores. Ken even took two photos of the 'battlefield' before it began.

Ken would regret staying to watch. It wasn't the glorious charge like in the stories he was told, it was carnage. The main part of the battle was the large hill overlooking the town and the troops were required to climb a extremely steep and rocky hill, almost a mountain, carrying heavy equipment and wearing cumbersome uniforms. All this while under heavy fire from the opposing German forces and unable to fire back effectively. The attack on the town was almost as bad. The defences were set up so as to cause maximum damage to the Allies. Even from his position near the back, Ken could see the smoking ruins of the destroyed tanks and the bodies of the infantrymen who lost its protection. Those who survived were either pinned down with no support or were captured by the enemy. As the battle petered out and the full extent of the c asualties became clear, Ken sobbed a little before being physically sick. He wasn't alone in that respect...

Ken would later recall the horrific attempts as the British, the Americans, the Australians, the New Zealanders all trying slightly different tactics for the same goal and how each one failed miserably. The Polish made the last attempt which succeeded. The hill was taken, the town was secured. The cost was dear and Ken could still see the depressed, dispirited look in the men's eyes and shuddered.  
He had been lucky to survive this far and in future, would use the battle as a prime example of his belief in the war. 'We moved when the Germans permitted us to'. But the war had yet more horrors to show before Ken could go home.


End file.
